Gen X Journey

I am a tattoo virgin, and I fully intend to remain that way. You know why?  Because tattoos are overdone.  Everyone has got one.  They’re common.  I’ll go so far to say that they’re boring, they’re pedestrian.  Yes you NFL player with the full sleeve–you haven’t made a cutting edge statement.  No, no, no.  You’re just one of the crowd. 

Once upon a time only the very, very tough had a tattoo.  That meant you were a bikie, or in the military or that you once got very drunk on a trip to the Gold Coast and weren’t fully in control of your senses.  People with tattoos had a hint of awe about them.  Ohh, look he’s got a tattoo.  Who knew Fred was such a wild one, you’d think to yourself on glimpsing Fred’s tattoo peaking out the bottom of his long-sleeved shirt.  And then you’d have to tell someone, because we all knew that people with tattoos had History. 

But not anymore.  Bet your Aunt Frida’s got a tattoo, tucked under the elastic band of her high waist cottontails.  It’s probably a ladybird, or a butterfly, or red heart or Betty Boop because they are the tattoo de jour of the middle aged woman.  Not so mysterious now is it? 

Has anyone seen cricket Michael Clarke’s tattoos?  They’re hard to miss because he likes to show them off while he’s wearing his Bond’s singlet.  I think Michael Clarke is the ultimate in tattoo dorkism.  Have a look at his photo, the boy’s a poster child for nerds but in the attempt to keep this  from us Michael sports kickarse tattoos.  There’s a sleeve, there’s carp diem (how original), there’s some Arabic writing that probably says I am a tryhard and then, and you just knew it was coming, his fiancee Lara Bingle’s initials.  Yet he still looks like he drinks a glass of milk everyday. 

Why oh why do men insist on getting their fiancee’s/wife’s/girlfriend’s initials on themselves?  Boys, the odds are that it’s not going to last, well certainly not as long as that tattoo is going to last.  Just ask Johnny Depp who was stuck with Winona which he then had to change to Wino.  Bet that makes the missus happy every time she sees it.  And what’s with the kid’s names.  I know they’re not going anywhere, but it smacks of a forgetful nature.  Picture it.  Tattooed man calling to his children.  Come on Pheonix, Bronx, Mistique and and shit what’s her name(?)...(rolls up sleeve and looks at forearm–aha) Berlina.  That’s another thing, tattooed people’s children are never called Joe or Sarah. 

Women aren’t off the hook either.  Thank god that Pammy Anderson barbed wire around the bicep is gradually losing favour, but the tramp stamp.  No, that is not attractive yet inexplicably its popularity grows.  Girls, take advice from celebrity-known-for-nothing Khloe Kardashian who recently said that while she loves her tattoos, she does regret her tramp stamp. 

And what about that Megan Fox?  She has a huge Marilyn Monroe on her forearm.  It looks ridiculous.  Why stop there though?  She’s got one on her shoulder, her ribcage and her ankle to name a few.  She’s even got Brian (yep, that’s Brian Austin Green–eeek, dorky David Silver from the original 90210) on her hipbone.  The girl’s a walking billboard.  Imagine if she ever got together with Michael Clarke, they could reproduce a comic book. 

Tattoos are now so mainstream that whole tv shows are devoted to them.  There’s London Ink, Miami Ink, LA Ink–there’s as many Ink shows as Law and Orders. 

But what are all these tattooed people going to look like in the old-age home?  That attractive butterfly on the cheek of their bum will spread to become a big fat arse buzzard.  Those highly coloured pieces of bodywork will fade like a beachtowel left too long in the sun.  And the worst thing is that you’re stuck with them. Forever.  But at least they won’t forget their kids’ names when Alzheimer’s strikes.

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